


Alone Together

by crqstalite



Series: What We Lost In The Fire [1]
Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Corsha Revel-Kallig, F/M, Mentions of Chapter VIII (KOTFE), mentions of stab wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-24
Updated: 2020-03-24
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:13:57
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,711
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23299126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crqstalite/pseuds/crqstalite
Summary: Koth Vortena believes in destiny. Destiny always had a plan and fate carried it out. Corsha Revel-Kallig believes otherwise.My interpretation of Chapter VIII: Taking Flight of Knights of the Fallen Empire.
Relationships: Koth Vortena/Female Sith Inquisitor
Series: What We Lost In The Fire [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1686358
Kudos: 3





	Alone Together

**Author's Note:**

> Kind of bounces around a bit between experiences. Takes place in the 'What We Lost In the Fire' universe.

Destiny is a very fickle thing, Koth Vortena discovers as he and HK finish off the last of skytroopers and Knights that had invaded their small holdout on Asylum. Some people believed that they existed outside of it's will, yet most of the time it reared it's ugly head in just the way they didn't want in the end. Destiny would be there, waiting for them if they really wanted to push it off for as long as they could. Lana could say all she wanted, but he would believe it until the end of his days. As long as the job got done, right?

Yet, sometimes there really were people that existed outside of fate's will.

The Sith 'Outlander' that they'd picked up a few months ago happened to be one of these. She didn't put it down, per se (that already put her a bit higher in his opinions than Lana already), but instead took it in stride, making her own verses to the songs that destiny had already written for her. There was nothing that she saw as off-limits, even going far enough to be the reason they found the Gravestone in the first place, all with a grin on her face. There was still so much she didn't understand about Zakuul, about everything. The questions she had were rudimentary at times, yet only curiousity remained instead of frustration when things couldn't be done the way she was used to. She didn't see herself above Zakuul, she saw it as a new world, a new culture. She was quite confused about the nature of most things, including even wiring electricity within the Gravestone (Koth had seen that as a rather basic thing, he couldn't figure why she wouldn't know how to even do that).

Yet she still went on about her business, the little things changing in her wake. He knew who they had spent all these years trying to save.

The woman could shoot lightning from her fingertips. Forget needing to wire anything properly or right for that matter, just a jolt of electricity emitted from her was enough to give him sufficient light to go about his repairs. Probably enough to power the ship for a period of time while she was at it.

It was...fascinating. Amazing even. Yes, Valkorion had been able to do the same at a much higher capacity, and Vaylin was proficient in it to the point of being the High Justice within Zakuulan society, but it was riveting to watch it so up close. It crackled louder than he'd expected, startling him the first time she'd done it. Yet she was unbothered, as if it was a normalcy in her part of the galaxy not simply limited to those at the top of her society. He'd bid her a nervous goodbye once she left, her hair fuzzing up at the ends but otherwise entirely fine.

His focus changed from saving the Outlander from her tomb to wanting to learn everything about the famed Outlander within the first couple of weeks. Or Corsha, as he learned she preferred instead of the title bestowed upon her by Arcann all those years ago. It was a name he'd never heard before anywhere in his home, but it was...nice he supposed. If names could be nice that was.

She was different. Not a bad different, of course. Just a very unexpected kind of different. He would've expected some barbarian to pop out of carbonite with a vibrorapier by the way Lana spoke of her offhandedly (headstrong, easy to anger, constantly on the move and rather ruthless), but with the proper context in place now, Corsha _was_ all of those things. Lana had simply forgotten to note her humor, her quiet thinking, her little tics that made her...her, and how soft she could be, how patient she really was. The way she smiled, the way she laughed, the way she reasoned with just about everyone, forgetting entirely about her prejudice against Zakuul and it's people. The way she complimented his piloting skills and his ability to repair even the most basic of machines with those wide amber eyes. Sure, she was absolutely ruthless on skytroopers and Knights and whatever came her way in the Zakuulan swamps, but she had mercy on those who begged for it, those she deemed worthy. She was eager to learn the ins and outs of slicing, yet headstrong and stubborn while she was at it. Seeing someone who used lightning on the daily get electrified by a rogue fuse was worth concern, yet all she could do was pout with her arms crossed in a corner as Koth asked Lana whether she'd be okay. The only thing his friend had done was laugh herself and respond that the woman would be just fine, if not a little peeved for the rest of the day. Confused, he hadn't bothered to talk to her about it, yet she only brushed her hair out and continued working in slight annoyance. If he'd been electrocuted like that, surely he would've died then and there, destiny forgotten.

And there she was.

That wasn't the only odd experience they'd had in the six months they'd hidden out on Zakuul, but it was one of the most memorable and the first time that Koth had seen a different side of her. She'd at first been cold, and Koth had his doubts about being behind an Outlander who wanted to see Arcann die. She was angry, nearly inconsolable for the first few weeks after they'd found the Gravestone, after they'd found her. Anything that stood in her way would be cut down violently with a red lightsaber the color of blood. He was entirely ready to give up and hide in Breaktown if this didn't work out, whatever Lana said. He'd protect Zakuul first, and leaving her as it's sole defender or as who was supposed to take the throne somewhere down the road in her current state did not seem like a very good idea. It was safe to say that in that moment, he lost a little bit of that hope.

Then, he'd realized just how vulnerable she could be when he found her up in the middle of the night, datapad in hand with her feet up on the dashboard of the Gravestone in the cockpit. She'd been surely reading something, though frustrated with the tablet itself as he could hear her swear under her breath, possibly louder than she'd intended. At first she'd thought he was an intruder, as he'd flicked the lights on without a word and she'd gone for his throat with the Force. Thankfully the pain hadn't lasted long, once she realized it was him and immediately putting him down and leaping from her seat, the datapad clattering to the ground. The look of horror in her red-rimmed eyes would be one he'd never forget as she apologized again and again, a gentle touch on his jaw as he rubbed his neck in surprise. That had never happened to him before that day, but the way her golden eyes looked him over for injury first made him selfishly think he should surprise her a little more often, or at least startle her when she didn't expect it.

He'd shoved that thought away in the deepest corner of his mind, a little too much for him to deal with right then. This was their Outlander, not some woman he'd met in a market. She was probably someone who could kill him if he spoke wrong. His life probably would be in actual danger if he made this a habit. She'd sternly asked him why he was up so late after helping him up, wandering around the Gravestone like a lost ghost or Force spirit. He'd asked her the exact same thing a moment later. He didn't get an answer, not one he easily understood at least.

She'd been crying all by herself, in the cockpit no less, for some reason. He never did figure out why.

In the morning, he'd asked Lana just how old their famed Outlander was over breakfast. Lana had nonchalantly answered she had only been twenty three when she was put into carbonite -- nearly twenty four _as if it were no big deal at all_. Technically she was twenty eight, adding those five years of surely nothingness that had been hell on the galaxy, but with the mind of someone who was still just barely an adult, someone who missing a chunk of their life. It was enough to make Koth uneasy, knowing that their new savior was barely of legal age to drink on Zakuul (Lana had also mentioned rules were different in the Outlands and people tended to ignore them) -- much less lead an Empire. Not that she wasn't capable, of all the things she'd admitted to doing before Zakuul she was clearly some sort of highly powered individual. The way she'd dealt with the Knights alone, and had stood up to Heskal and his Scions recently in their adventures together definitely didn't make him see her as weak. The Order had never stood a chance either, as she finished them off in Breaktown, leaving not a single living soul in her wake.

Still, compared to Lana's thirty or his thirty-five, she was young. Very young.

Wouldn't mean he didn't respect her just because she was a decade younger than him. Just meant he had to be careful. Not that he wasn't, but that she had a patchwork of knowledge. She'd even admitted that it was anyone's guess on what she knew. Lightsaber techniques, yes. She could run circles around him when they trained together. Basic cooking, well apparently that wasn't taught as much at her Sith Academy or whatever.

He learned she was very much a cuddly kind of person about a month into their little excursion. Not a trait that she would admit it out loud, but whenever she'd work with anyone, Lana or him, there was always some element of touch. A gentle brush on their shoulder, a high five or two after a job well done. She'd even managed to get a hug out of Lana while they were still on a battle high, something Koth couldn't even imagine doing knowing the woman for as long as he had. He figured after so many years (that she was somewhat conscious for, as he learned) that all she could want would to be with someone else. She'd essentially been alone for as long as she could remember after Darth Marr's flagship had been brought down by Zakuul, no wonder she was so upset.

Then every single flirty line she'd dropped before they'd arrived on Asylum and even after. It seemed so natural for her, and it extended far past just normal concern for him. It wasn't shown to Senya or Lana, surely because she saw them differently than how she saw him. That was an issue he didn't talk about with Lana, in general concern for how the Sith would see him if she knew he was receptive to someone so much younger than the both of them. He did have morals, as unbelievable as that surely was to someone of her caliber. She was pretty, very pretty, and so much different from what he knew, it was impossible not to be attracted to her.

What if she had someone back home waiting for her, hoping she was still alive, concerned for her fate? He could only imagine what hunk of a man or beauty of a woman was pining after their long-assumed dead wife or girlfriend.

Sliding a hand down over his warming face, he sighs and adjusts his grip on his rifle as he peeks out from his cover spot, scanning the area for any further resistance from the landing party. Maybe he was overthinking this. These weren't things he should be concerned about, really.

He was definitely overthinking this. There were more important things to worry about than the touch starved woman from the Outlands. Like...oh he didn't know, the fact he'd nearly died at least three times today if not more. Who was counting, anyway?

Actually, he probably should be more worried about her, if anything. It had been a while since he'd seen her, and he wasn't sure how long it took to flip a few switches. Lana's com call had come in a while ago, so the docking system was down. He's getting a tad antsy, especially after HK had left to go and collect her so they could haul jets and get out of here, he figures that the situation as a whole warrants some concern. He'd been to Asylum plenty of times in the past, but he can't figure who might've been giving her a hard time.

He decides to follow her up. Technically he was supposed to hold position here, at least until she came back so that they could get back to the Gravestone together, no man left behind as Lana had advised with a stern tone, her eyes on him and Senya specifically. His heart rate picks up as his gaze darts to where he'd seen her last, had she been hurt? Who could be up there was anybody's guess, but something in his gut makes him abandon his post and hit the elevator's up button with more force that really necessary. Whatever he finds, he hopes it's not a dead body.

_"My mother died from someone who was too crazed with the idea of power, Koth. If you think I'm going the same way, especially to someone not even that many years older than me, I suggest you get your head on straight." She'd once sarcastically told him, before slicing off at least four inches worth of hair off her head with a knife she'd found somewhere. Meeting his eyes as she brushes back what little is left on her head, she gives him what he's sure is supposed to a reassuring smile as she re sheathes the decorative knife on her hip, "I'm Sith, not a pushover, not to mention I'm your Outlander. Destiny said I'd save the galaxy, right? Don't worry about me, okay?"_

A chill runs down his spine as he hears the telltale sound of a lightsaber clashing with something else, two in fact as he hurries down the hall just after the elevator docks with a shudder of duracrete against duracrete. His mind wanders to the darkest corners of his mind, afraid Corsha has done something horrid -- turned on them all or worse ending it all here with still so much of her young life to live. He doesn't hear HK's signature blaster rifle firing either, and trying his com, all he receives is little more than static. He can only imagine what lies she'd told them, to get them to believe in her. Why it was so easy to turn to what he shouldn't have been believing, he didn't know. Koth had no reason to doubt her, she'd give up her life to save both him and Lana more times than he could count. Nothing made him think that this would be the end of the line except pure unadulterated fear and adrenaline running through his veins.

A girl may have lost her life, and here he was assuming the worst. He shakes his head, pouring on the speed.

Just as he skids to the door, he catches a glimpse of both her crimson red saber and the ominous gold of _Arcann's_. Why the Emperor was here, stars he didn't know but he knows that she's fighting a losing battle. Lightning crackles at her fingertips again, but the man dodges with practiced ease before throwing her backwards with an unseen force. HK's smoldering corpse is by her feet as she hits the guardrail, still holding up her saber in defiance. Her scream is ear-shattering as she spins and even throws out a kick here and there, an attempt to knock him off his feet. She's wild, a hurricane of emotion, of speed as she fights for her life. She's powerful, and even he has to go on the defensive to keep her from getting a hit in. Her raw strength is best observed in awe from the sidelines, yet there she goes again, the sound of plasma hitting plasma loud in his ears as they duel. His first thought is to try and snipe Arcann from this distance, maybe just to get him off her case so they can get out of here.

_Her gold eyes bore into him, a warm hand over where the skytrooper had gotten him on his face, a skid mark nearly with their blaster. The bloody mark had been dribbling down his face for hours now, dried once they'd returned to the Gravestone. It was painful, not just getting shot, but also whatever she'd done to close up the wound as it feels like being ripped in two and then put back together again. Gritting his teeth, he manages to sit through it until she's through. Relief was instantaneous as soon as she was done though. Odd, but welcome as he makes to touch it, figure if it's actually closed up or just a need trick of hers, but her gentle touch lingered as she brushed her thumb over his jaw, stilling his hand by his side._

_She's quiet. Maybe she's forgotten why she's here, but Corsha doesn't say a word. Neither does he. Her scars are deep all over her face, a burn mark now evident near her right eye. Her hand moves to brush over other old scars on his face, and the faraway look in her eyes make him think she's trying to puzzle piece him together -- that she's not all there in the moment. Maybe his confusion is evident because then he can't help himself to ask, moving his hand to graze her's, "Did you just heal me?"_

_It breaks her spell as she regains her voice, standing from her bent over position and pulling her hand away immediately. Looking away from him, she crosses her arms with a look of near distaste, though there's an element of concern in her voice "I did. I apologize if I hurt you, but that is Sith healing for you. Get used to it."_

_"Yeah, thanks." He responds. He's sure she hasn't heard him as he picks himself up as she moves to help Lana, kneeling down to do the same to the blonde woman, surely. The cut had healed up, as if it were never there. There's no scar to be felt, nothing there to make him think he'd been shot in the first place as he runs a finger over where her warm hand had just been. Corsha was all that was beautiful in nature. She was a miracle._

_And a tad terrifying if he was being honest._

A shout catches in his throat as Arcann yanks her forward, and she shrieks as he stabs her through with his lightsaber. Time stops in that moment, mission forgotten as all he can see is the woman fall to the ground in a heap, a hand going for her side. Arcann stands over her as she struggles to pick herself up again, falling flat on her front as he arm goes out from underneath her.

He's frozen. This was the same woman who'd just been joking with him earlier in the day, making plans for what she'd do when she got back to the Core Worlds. The smile that had lit a fire inside him, how she'd playfully taken his goggles before returning them to him with a good natured chuckle.

And yet here she was, at the mercy of the blasted Emperor as she bleeds out on the ground, a hand clutched over her side as she keeps him at bay with an outstretched hand and her Force abilities. Arcann doesn't realize he's here yet, and he can't just turn and run as much as he desperately wants to. Blazes he might be next if he doesn't get out of here, and unlike Corsha he's not sure he could take a lightsaber to the gut and even still be conscious.

Still, he's not leaving her. Destiny be damned, he wasn't that horrible of a person to run as soon as the going got tough.

Plus, Lana would kill him for getting the Outlander killed, or at least letting her die when he was perfectly capable of doing something -- anything to save her. He didn't leave the Zakuulan military to look out for his own skin. He was here to make a difference in the galaxy, and make a difference he would.

Scanning the room frantically, his eyes land on a loadbearing chunk of duracrete just above the two. This could work, maybe, and also probably get him killed if Arcann noticed too soon. Or Corsha, if he doesn't land this just right. Or both of them, and they could kill this notion of rebellion before they even got out of Zakuul airspace. Well, nothing was ever concrete. He'd already lived longer than he thought he would, so he lines up the shot, and fires. All that training wasn't for nothing, but his hands are still shaking. Even with his eyes off her, her limp body would haunt him for months, maybe years after all of this was over.

It comes down with a crash, Corsha moving just far enough so that it instead knocks Arcann off balance and into the void below them. Once it's clear he's down for the count (Koth doesn't have enough raw hope left to think they've killed him for good), he rushes over, not even sheathing his rifle before kneeling down next to her.

He sucks in a breath, it's bad. Really bad, and her eyes are barely flickering open to focus on him. Her teeth are gritting together as she has one hand over the bloodied spot of her armor, surely trying to heal herself. She coughs, shuddering with pain before pushing herself up on her side, "Koth?"

"I didn't run all the way back here to watch you die." Is all he can whisper, brushing a strand of hair out of her face. Maybe it's a little too familial, but Corsha gently leans into the touch, her eyes closing in the moment it takes to do so. He helps her up into a sitting position against a crate as her hand glows an ominious purple over her wound as she struggles to get up further before he holds her down, trying to keep her from hurting herself further.

She chuckles, moving her hands to snap off her respirator before she hisses in pain, dropping her hands back to her side. He isn't immediately sure how to do so, but he manages to find the clasps to pull it off her only a moment later. Corsha holds his hand in her's for a moment, letting him drop the mask onto the ground with a clatter. She's still warm, yet he feels something slip against the back of his hand. Surely her drying blood, "I wouldn't disappoint you with a sad ending."

She doesn't acknowledge just how surprised he must seem as she takes a few labored breaths with her gaze pinned on him, blood still wet on her gloves before she yanks him forward by the fabric of his tunic, slamming her lips onto his. It's forceful, yes, enough to knock the wind out of him nearly but her body screams passion at him. Whatever force presence or signature that she had that he couldn't make heads or tails of, he's sure it's doing whatever Lana says it does.

Corsha tastes of blood. Tastes of metal, and as much as he'd like to continue with this (he's way warmer than he should be right now, and that's making him way more uncomfortable than he wants to be, but it's not unwelcome), he also knows that she's living on borrowed time right now. He'd be an idiot to ignore what'd just happened, and even stupider to believe that she'd be fine the way she is. He pulls away from her, her eyes opening slower than he wouldn't wanted and groaning quietly. Maybe because she's unsatisfied, maybe because she has to shift to let him go and the blood stain is only growing worryingly larger through her armor's fabric, "Corsha..." He warns.

"I know, I know. I'm not looking as hot as I would've wanted to." She rolls her eyes as she sarcastically reminds him, grimacing as she tries to push herself up with one arm before visibly stifling a shriek and slipping back down to her sitting position, "Not the way I would've wanted to confess to you, y'know?"

"Yeah, I can second that." He responds, looking around to scan for anyone else who may have arrived while they were...distracted. His eyes land on HK, who still hasn't moved even though what internal systems he has left has cooled his body so that he's no longer on fire. The poor droid wouldn't be coming back with them, and he can safely assume that Arcann is the one to blame. The assassin droid had been his confidant for years, and there would never be another one like him.

"He died trying to save me." Corsha whispers, a frown on her face as her gaze follows his, "The docking system should be down. That much I got done."

"Thanks for that, really." He responds, softening his tone. Taking her in for a moment, he figures she can't be much weight if any. Limp, yes, but he should logically be able to get her back to the shuttle if he carries her back. And any adversaries were most likely dead, if all the metal corpses outside were anything to go by, "You think you can walk?"

"Doubt it." Her head lolls for a moment before she manages to pull herself back up again, which nearly makes him jump as he watches blood pool out of her mouth, a light cough making her entire body shake as she groans, "Koth, go. Get the Gravestone out of here."

"I'm not leaving you, Corsha." He responds firmly, but even watching every labored breath she takes makes his own chest heave. She was willing to leave herself behind in the wake of the attack on Asylum for the good of who, of them? Self sacrifice was one thing, but leaving behind someone who had so much hope for the future...

A tad frustrated, he slides his rifle back onto his back before picking up her lightsaber hilt and putting it in one of his pockets. He manages to get an arm around her after a moment of deliberation, to pull her up into his arms instead. Her face contorts into one of pain as she groans, the blood pooling on her abdomen and her hand goes there first, "Stars -- Koth you shouldn't have done that."

"I know. But I'm not leaving you behind, and I don't think you're in any condition to get out of here on your own." He reassures her, even with the confused and fearful look in her near dead eyes. She's dying, and she knows that. Blazes, he knows that as she doesn't try to fight him on it. Corsha weighs about nothing as he shifts her in his arms.

"I really should be dead, you know that right?" She asks, her voice weak as he picks up his pace, Tora's voice shouting at them both through the communicators, "No one gets stabbed with a lightsaber and lives...not usually."

"Then I guess you're about to make history." He responds, her eyes close on him just as they make it back to the elevator and his heart drops, "Corsha, stars stay with me!"

"I'm up!" She yells, before coughing up what he's sure is nearly an entire lung, blood spilling out her lips and onto her silver armor plates. Upon closer inspection, Arcann must've stabbed her much closer to her lungs than he'd thought at first, "For now."

"Yeah, not liking that for now bit." He responds, punching in the code to the shuttle and slipping her down into one of the passenger seats. Relief washes over her expression, her hand glowing again over the stab wound. He kneels down next to her, her lidded gaze looking down over him, "Bravery in the face of danger is only attractive when you survive."

"It's more romantic if I come back almost dead." She gives him a strained smile as he stands, in the last moment he gently kisses her. It feels wrong in a way, but if she's annoyed, she doesn't acknowledge it.

"Stay alive for a couple more minutes?" Koth asks, and she nods absentmindedly, maybe not actually hearing him. He doesn't know. For a moment, he wants to ask if Lana can come to get them, if not just so he can stay with her for only a few more minutes. What this was, he wasn't entirely sure yet, but the galaxy wouldn't lose her. Not today.

He hopes, as he starts the shuttle and pulls away from the station.

_"Staying alive, that's all we can hope for, isn't it?" Corsha had asked him, Lana and Senya somewhere else in the ship. She laughs, brushing her hair back so that her eyes are on display, "My mom would second that, my father's probably pissed with Zakuul at the moment but I'm sure he's doing what he can to keep his life together without me."_

_"What was he like?" Koth questioned, curious but also not trying to push her much further than he already had. When her expression drops to one of sadness, he opens his mouth to take the words back -- to change the subject before she can do it._

_"He wasn't your typical father. I only knew him for three years before all this, but he's still all I had. Maybe he didn't do everything that he could've or should've done, but he was always there for me, supporting me in everything I did." Corsha says sadly, before turning back to him, "He taught me how to shoot a blaster and how to cheat at sabaac, so that's definitely something."_

_"Sounds like a good man." He answers, "Can see where you might've gotten it from, you've got a good aim with a blaster."_

_"Thanks, Koth." She gets up from the co-pilot's chair before lazily walking over to him, "I'm sure I got my good looks from him too, don't you agree?"_

_She's baiting him, he knows that she is, but she's entirely right,"Yeah, sure."_

The moment they hit the Gravestone, his concern is still on her. His mind wanders to her every few seconds even though they're trying to fight their way out a blockade, dodging shots and putting out fires left and right. Stars she's a distraction but he'd be lying if he said he didn't want to care about her.

The second they hit hyperspace can't come fast enough as the bright blue light fills his vision, the Eternal Fleet essentially forgotten for a moment as the rush of adrenaline peaks. The crew of the Gravestone is safe for the moment, and he's piloted them to relative safety. Not a bad job if he does say so himself.

Corsha collapses shortly after that, maybe only cortisol was holding her up too. At first he thinks she's dead, that he wasn't quick enough to get her back, that he let her die under his care. That she was about to become the latest addition to his list of lifetime regrets. Senya (oh _Senya_ of all people) confirms after a moment that she's simply out -- passed out from loss of blood. It isn't a pretty picture, red dribbling out of her mouth and painting her like a horror holovid's protagonist. Yet she's still beautiful. She'd sacrificed her life for them, and he'd return the favor one day, he hopes.

He takes watch over her over the next two days, even though Lana says he really doesn't need to. She's in good hands, the force healing and bacta/kolto mix that Ralo had recommended is doing it's best to fix her. It doesn't close up the wound entirely, and she most likely would want corrective surgery to fix it, at least cosmetically with all the scarring and bruising present. He has more things to worry about, like piloting the Gravestone to Odessen (where that even is, he has no idea -- some place Lana found and didn't tell him about, not unusual but it isn't on any star maps), but his focus is on her. She seems more relaxed than she was when they first brought her aboard, and he can't keep himself from just gently rubbing over the back of her knuckles. Outlander or otherwise, she's still important to him. Now more than ever.

Corsha opens her eyes two days later, bleary and sore. Confused almost, as she has to shade her eyes from the sharp lights of the room. The entire time that he and Lana are speaking to her, her gaze is riveted to him. She considers all the things Lana says -- that she's running an Alliance as soon as they touch down on Odessen. That she's the hero this small rebellion of people from the Outlands want to follow. 

But her entire focus, her entire world is him as soon as the blonde Sith leaves the medbay.

And for some reason, he's okay with that. Because he wants to be her entire world. As long as they're alone together in that little medbay with all the three minute intervals in the world, he's happy to leave the safety of the galaxy in her warm, callused hands.

Zakuul is his home, the planet he'd always fight for no matter what, no matter what anyone else could say. But Corsha Revel-Kallig has also made her mark on him, and maybe one day he'll have a home in her.

Because they're alone in this little galaxy -- but they're alone together.


End file.
